Jim, Mom and Dr. Scully were standing in the anteroom outside ICU when we got there. They all looked up expectantly when I arrived.

And then Mom looked down, and she saw Agent Mulder's hand in mine. And she was horrified. "Jilly, for heaven's sake, what are you doing?" she said in a stage whisper. "Surely you're not considering ..."

"Considering is exactly what she's been doing, Mrs. Reilly," Dr. Scully said, and her eyes were softer than I've ever seen them. She really looked pretty. It was a new side of her -- a more human side.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reilly," she was saying to me, quietly. "You really are everything Daniel said you were."

I felt my face flush hot. "Nobody's that good," I said, and she smiled.

"James, do something," Mom pleaded. "This is going to ruin your brother's career."

At least she kept her voice down. I wouldn't want anyone in the Navy to overhear this conversation.

"We'll be careful, Mom," Jim said, quietly. "I know you're worried about Daniel. So am I. But you're not able to be objective about this. That's why Daniel left the decision to Jill."

"He did it because she is the proper person," Mom said, and she was beginning to sound panicky. "Jill is still his wife in the eyes of the Church -- or had you forgotten that?"

That, I knew, came from desperation. Mom had very little use for the Church's views on divorce, and she knew as well as I did that even in the old days I could have gotten an annulment with the admissions Daniel had made to me. But the validity of my former marriage wasn't the point -- the point was that Mom was running out of arguments.

"I haven't forgotten," Jim was saying slowly, "and Jill's lived up to her marriage vows a hell of a lot better than my brother did. And Daniel knew she would. Even after the divorce, he still trusted her to carry out his wishes."

"To do what's best for him," Mom said, flatly.

"To do what he would want," Jim said, just as flatly. "Mom, think for a moment," he went on, more quietly. "If Daniel could talk to you right now, if he knew that Agent Mulder was out here and wanted to see him, what do you think he would tell you to do?"

She didn't answer. She turned to me. "Jill, I beg you to reconsider," she said, and she was starting to cry now. "This is not what's best for Daniel. Wait until he's out of the hospital so no one will know."

"Mom," I said, "I know you're just trying to look out for Daniel. So am I. But this is right. You must know that."

"Jill, you were with him for 12 years," Mom said, and now she was starting to cry. "You cannot let this person ruin Daniel's career."

"Eighteen years, actually, starting in high school," I said, and I was starting to cry, too. "But this is not about the Navy. This is about Daniel."

I dropped Mulder's hand and put my arms around Mom. She was shaking; she seemed near collapsing. "Mom," I whispered in her ear, "You know I love you. You've been more of a mother to me than my own mother ever thought of being. Come with us. Please."

She looked up at me in shock. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No. Never. I could never watch ... that man ... touching my son. Never." She pulled away from me, still shivering, turned and walked away. She never even looked back.

I followed her with my eyes until she turned a corner and was gone.

"Jilly," Jim said, putting his hand on my back. "She'll come around. She still loves you both. She'll change her mind. Don't give up on her yet."

I shook my head. I couldn't think about that now -- my brain was very near complete overload.

"Let's just go," I said.

"Mulder," Dr. Scully started, but he shook his head.

"It'll be all right, Scully," he said. I hoped he was right.

"Mulder, someone needs to keep an eye out ..." she said, but this time I interrupted her.

"You're right, someone does," I said. "Why don't you come with us, and we'll make sure it's all right."

"I'll go first, Mulder, make sure the coast is clear," Jim said. "If it's all right, I'll signal you."

"All right," he said. He seemed calm to me, but Dr. Scully must have seen something in those beautiful eyes of his. She walked over to him and kissed his cheek, softly.

"It won't be long, Mulder," she said. "Just another minute. That's all." And he nodded again, and squeezed her hand.

I took another deep breath.

And I walked into the ICU, with Jim and Scully right behind me, to where Daniel lay, his bed partly hidden by a green curtain. He looked very much the way he had when I saw him before -- not good.

"His color is good," Scully said quietly, and she smoothed his hair lovingly. "And his vitals are steady." I wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure me or herself.

Seeing her touch him that way should have made me feel jealous all over again. But I was emotionally worn out and I didn't have room for that anymore.

"He looks so tired," I whispered. "And so sad. Dr. Scully, have you ever known a comatose patient who recovered and reported feeling sad in coma?"

She smiled at me then -- a beautiful smile. It softened her whole face. "You don't want to know about my patients right now," she said. "But if Daniel _is_ sad, then let's do something about it."

"What do I need to do?" I said.

"You and Lieutenant Reilly stand over there," she said, pulling the curtain as far around the bed as it would go. "Just act as though we're here visiting. It won't give them much privacy, but it'll help ensure there aren't any unpleasant surprises now or questions later."

"All right," Jim said. He turned around and beckoned to Mulder.

Mulder walked in. Slowly, steadily, he made his way toward the bed, almost as though he didn't see us. And I don't think, really, that he did. He saw Daniel, and that was all.

I held my breath. This was crunch time, put-your-money-where-your- mouth-is time, and no matter how good my intentions were, I wasn't sure I could stand this. I told myself I just had to deal with it for a few minutes, and then it would be over.

And then Mulder took Daniel's hand. "Daniel," he said, so quietly I could scarcely hear him. "Daniel, it's Fox. I'm here. I came to see how you were doing."

There was a chair next to the bed; Mulder sat down and, still holding Daniel's hand, started talking to him very quietly. I couldn't hear what he said; I was trying not to, trying to give them what little privacy I could, and also trying not to hear anything that was going to make this any more difficult than it already was.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, until one of the nurses started to walk over -- I suppose to tell us that visiting time was over for now. Jim cleared his throat to warn Mulder, who looked up and nodded that he understood.

He stood up, letting go of Daniel's hand; then he leaned over, and he kissed Daniel's forehead so gently I wasn't sure Daniel even felt it.

It was the loveliest, most heartbreaking kiss I had ever seen.

"Look," Dr. Scully whispered, nodding toward the telemetry monitor, but I didn't have to look. I've been listening to those monitors for years, and I could tell by the sound what she was seeing.

Daniel hadn't moved, but his pulse rate had risen -- dramatically.

I felt Jim's arm drape around my shoulders, and I looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes.

There were tears in mine, too.

************

As Scully Saw It

************

That was one of the longest, most painful days of my life -- and, in some ways, one of the best.

Once Mulder had permission to see Daniel in the ICU, there was no way he was going to leave the hospital and risk missing one of the all-too- brief visiting times, so we spent most of that day sitting in the ICU waiting area. Sometimes we talked to Jim or to Jill, but mostly we kept to ourselves -- as we so often do.

I spent some of the time watching Jill Reilly as covertly as I could. There was a calm strength about her now that I hadn't seen on our previous encounters, a certainty, perhaps, that she'd done the right thing. It was a different side of her, one that made it easy to see why Daniel loved her and why he had stayed with her for so long in spite of all the heartache that it eventually caused them both.

She didn't say much, just chatted, mostly about her job, or the news -- tactfully avoiding any mention of John Lee Roche, I was grateful to note.

Late that afternoon, Dr. Montgomery came to tell us that he'd been able to wake Daniel long enough to get him to take a few unassisted breaths. He tired quickly, of course, so they reconnected the ventilator, but Dr. Montgomery told us he was extremely pleased.

"I think we'll have him awake and breathing on his own by tomorrow," he told us, his smile making him seem, for the first time, entirely human. "He's got no discernible neurologic damage, the lung's healing nicely, and he won't need help for much longer."

As soon as Montgomery left, Mulder closed his eyes, let his head fall back and let out a deep sigh of relief, then sat down -- or maybe collapsed is a better description -- and put his face in his hands.

I was walking toward him, intending to offer him comfort, but to my shock, someone else beat me to it.

Jill.

She was sitting at the other end of the sofa. Without a word, she slid into the space next to Mulder, put her arm around his shoulders and to my utter astonishment, kissed him delicately on his left temple.

It astonished Mulder, too, I think. His hands fell to his lap and he looked at her almost warily ...

But she was smiling, very kindly.

"He _was_ sad before you came to see him," she said, and her voice was so gentle. "He needed to know you were with him before he could wake up."

Mulder let out his breath, slowly, and then he smiled, too. "He doesn't need me half as much as I need him," he said, simply.

"I know," Jill said, and now her voice was really trembling, and tears were running down her cheeks. "Please believe me," she said. "I do know."

"I know you do," Mulder said, and he put his arms around her. For just a moment, I thought, she stiffened slightly, but then she laid her head on Mulder's shoulder and began to cry.

It was -- should have been -- a lovely moment. All right, it was, and I was glad for all our sakes that they'd been able to make that first step toward each other.

But it hurt. It hurt a lot. If she hadn't been here, Mulder would have turned to me for comfort, just as naturally as he always did. Now someone else was taking my place.

I couldn't stand it. I didn't want to stay here and spoil this, but I just couldn't bear it another minute. Mulder wouldn't care if I left right now; he barely seemed to know I was here anyway.

I turned and started to walk out of the waiting area, but I felt a hand on my shoulder and stopped.

It was Jim Reilly.

"Want to go get a cup of coffee?" he said, in that voice that sounded so much like Daniel's.

Well, yes, actually, I did. I nodded and he picked up his cover, held the door for me and guided me through, one hand on the small of my back, just the way Mulder always does.

But this ... felt a little different. I suppose the reason for that is obvious.

We didn't talk while we were walking to the snack bar. Lt. Reilly bought two coffees. I put cream in mine, ignoring his humorously disapproving glance -- I'm used to military types and their penchant for black coffee -- and we went outside, found a bench and sat down.

"Dr. Scully, if you don't mind my saying so, you seem a little unhappy," he said. He'd already drunk about half his coffee; I was still stirring mine absently.

"No, not entirely," I acknowledged. "Perhaps it's just the strain of the last few days."

"Perhaps it's seeing your best friend turning to a perfect stranger for comfort," Lt. Reilly said. "A perfect stranger who, up until an hour ago, was putting him through a pretty tough time."

He spoke mildly enough, but it was a challenge nonetheless. He already knew how I felt; I doubt that I was succeeding at all in trying to hide that. No, what he really wanted was to know just exactly where I fit in here.

Too bad. I wasn't ready to unburden myself to a stranger, no matter how much he looked like Daniel.

"I suppose it might appear that way, lieutenant," I said, taking a sip of the coffee.

"Jim," he said. "I could never sketch out the family tree, but I figure you and I must be in-laws or something, and my family calls me Jim."

"Your mother calls you James," I said.

"She does it to piss me off," he said, then looked up at me guiltily. "Sorry."

"It's all right, I'm a Navy brat myself," I said, smiling for the first time. "I've heard much worse, believe me."

"Oh, shit," he said, looking skyward and then back down at me. "You're Charlie Scully's sister, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," I said. "How do you know Charlie?"

"We were at Annapolis together," Jim said. "He was a couple of years behind me. I should have realized -- I can see the resemblance. Where's Charlie now?"

"On USS Tortuga, sailing around the Gulf of Mexico," I said. "Did you know my older brother, Bill?"

"Heard of him," he said. "What's he up to?"

"USS John C. Stennis," I said. "Weapons."

Jim whistled admiringly. "Not too shabby. So the whole Scully clan's been kissed by Mother Carey ..."

"Yes, we have," I said, and then -- for no reason I can think of -- I added, "bubblehead."

He laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that was like Daniel's ... and yet wasn't. "You _are_ a Navy brat," he said, shaking his head. "Can't hide it. So where were you born -- Hawaii? Philippines? Okinawa?"

"No, I was born in a nice stateside hospital in Maryland," I said. "This one, to be precise. My sister Melissa was born in Okinawa, though."

"Is she in the Navy?" he asked.

"No," I said, quietly. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It must not have been too long ago."

I shook my head and took another swallow of my coffee. "Not long at all," I said. "Just a little over a year."

"How did it happen? If you don't mind telling me, that is," he added, quickly.

I took a deep breath and let it go, slowly. "She was shot," I said. Funny how I can say that so matter-of-factly when I still can't really believe that it happened. "And she died before I could get to the hospital to see her."

Jim gave a long, low whistle. "No wonder you were doing the mother bear routine with your partner," he said. "You knew what could happen. I'm very sorry, Dr. Scully."

"Dana," I said, without thinking. "Or just Scully. Nobody calls me Dr. Scully."

"What, not even your mother?" he said. "You know," he said, in a phony Yiddishe momma accent -- "'My daughter, the doctor.'"

I had to laugh. "No, nothing like that," I said, and I looked at him for the first time since we sat down. "I'm Irish Catholic; Mulder's the one who's Jewish."

"Oh, sorry," Jim said, but he didn't look sorry. He looked -- very pleased. "So what _you_ get is, 'Dana, I ran into that boy you dated when you were at St. Catherine's -- he's in town for a few days and I told him to give you a call.'"

Okay, I really had to laugh at that one. "Something very much like that actually happened not too long ago," I said. "Only it was a young man I dated in college, not in high school."

"A technicality," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He was about to say something else, but an admiral walked by and he had to jump up and salute.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said, giving a salute so perfect it was a pleasure to see it. I hate floppy, poorly executed salutes.

The admiral flung him a half-hearted salute in return, grunted and walked on without making eye contact.

"Would you rather go inside?" I asked when he sat back down. "If you stay out here, that's just going to keep happening."

He shook his head. "Nah," he said. "I'd rather be here than inside. Anyway, don't you think it looks really sexy to see a man in uniform saluting?"

Damn him, he had me laughing again. "There's no modesty in your family, is there?" I said, shaking my head.

"Well, actually, there is, but Daniel got it all," he said. "I didn't need it -- I have so little to be modest about."

"I don't know you well enough to comment on that," I said. "But I do know your brother, and I can't argue with you. He's really wonderful."

"You're damn right he is," Jim said, gruffly. For a minute he didn't say anything else. Obviously, I wasn't the only one whose emotions were close to the surface today.

I was searching my brain for a way to start the conversation again when Jim began talking.

"Let me tell you a little story about just how wonderful my brother really is," he said, in a low voice, "When I graduated from Annapolis, my whole family was there -- my mom and dad, my sisters and their husbands, Daniel and Jill, and my girlfriend, Elise, to whom I was about to propose. Out of all those people, Daniel was the only one I really wanted to see."

"Why was that?" I asked, intrigued in spite of myself.

"Because for four years," Jim said, softly, "he was the only one who seemed to believe I'd make it all the way through the Academy. So for four years, whenever things got bad, I'd imagine myself at graduation, giving Daniel a salute, showing him that he was right to believe in me. Sometimes that was all that kept me going."

"Did you have a hard time as a midshipman?" I asked.

He nodded. "Just ask your brother; he'll remember. I got myself in more trouble than any midshipman in history -- at least, more than any middy who went on to graduate. My grades just plain sucked, too."

"My brothers tell me the Academy's tough," I said, sympathetically.

Jim laughed. "Yeah, it's tough. And Marie Antoinette had a bad hair day, and Bill Gates has a few bucks saved up."

"I see your point," I said, dryly. "So did you find Daniel?"

"Yeah, I found him," Jim said, in a softer, more reminiscent voice. "He was walking toward the bleachers, and there were hundreds of brand-new ensigns running around, every one of them screeching to a halt and flinging a salute when they saw all the stripes on his shoulderboards. But when he saw me, he stopped right where he was."

Jim went silent for a moment.

"So what happened?" I said, finally.

"I came to attention and I saluted him," he said, very softly. "He returned my salute and then he said, 'At ease, Ensign Reilly,' and I said, 'Thank you, sir,' and he was smiling and I was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Then the rest of the family came strolling up, and almost all of them were in uniform, and Pop's old shipmates kept coming over to say hello, and I was saluting so damn much I thought my fucking arm would fall off."

"Oh, yes," I said, with a little laugh. "I remember. That was what Bill's and Charlie's graduations were like. Ahab -- my father -- was always surrounded by brass, and my brothers both looked so scared ..."

"Oh, I bet they did," Jim said, nodding. "That's a scary time, even if you're an officer's kid. You think you're used to being around senior officers because you grew up with them. Then you put on that uniform and you realize just how much distance there is between you and 'Uncle Joey' or whatever you used to call your old man's friends ... you never forget it."

"Is that what you remember about graduation -- all the saluting?" I asked.

"I remember saluting Daniel," he said, quietly, "and I remember the look on his face when he saw me. He was so damn proud of me, even if I _had_ been the biggest screw-up in the history of the Naval Academy. It didn't matter anymore -- I was an ensign in the United States Navy and my big brother was telling me he was proud of me."

"I'm sure the others were proud of you, too," I said, although I had to clear my throat first. This story was getting to me.

"Oh, yeah, they just praised me right to the damn skies and all but ignored Daniel, which was just not fucking fair," Jim said, bitterly. "Even back then, before we knew the truth about Daniel, Pop was real cool toward him. He'd wanted Daniel to go to Annapolis and spend his life out on the blue water; it was a big disappointment to him when Daniel chose ROTC and fleet medicine."

"He's an excellent surgeon, Jim," I said. "Surely they must know that."

"I don't think they do know that," he said, looking at me again. "I know it -- I know it took him four years of college, four years of med school and five years of residency, but he did it. That's a hell of an accomplishment -- the Navy doesn't send just anybody to medical school, you know."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "And I can tell you from experience that medical school is no walk in the park. I hear residency's worse, but I wouldn't know -- I went into the FBI right after I graduated."

"And I'm betting there's a hell of a story behind that, Dr. Dana," Jim said, the twinkle returning to his eye. "But maybe I'll have to ply you with orange soda or something to get you to tell it to me."

"Or something," I said, nodding. "So where were you stationed after graduation?"

"The USS City of Corpus Christi," he said. "Went from there to the Dallas, but I'm heading back to Corpus Christi on my next voyage."

"Was your father pleased with that?" I asked. "Subs, I mean?"

"Nah, he hated it," Jim said, toying with his empty coffee cup. "Dad said he didn't raise his son to be a bubblehead -- but he said he guessed it was better than spending most of your career on shore. That was a slap at Daniel, in case you hadn't guessed."

"I guessed," I said. "And I'm sorry. I think the world of Daniel. It's hard to see how anyone could think otherwise."

He shrugged. "Could have been worse -- Daniel could have been a jarhead."

"Bite your tongue," I said. I looked down at my coffee cup and decided I could do without the rest of it. "I think we should go back inside now," I said. "It's almost time for another visit."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Jim said, and I almost shivered. He _did_ sound like Daniel -- so much so that I had to look at him to make sure it was still Jim.

They were so much alike, but somehow so different ... Jim was just as attractive as Daniel, just as intelligent, but his whole demeanor proclaimed that he was less serious, less perfectionistic, less weighed down with all the cares of the world. And there was that all-but- impalpable difference, that air of sexual magnetism that Daniel doesn't have ... not for me, anyway. Daniel is incredibly attractive, but he's not trying to put out sexual signals to me or to any other woman.

Odd, isn't it, how seldom I notice the absence of that magnetism when I'm with Daniel or with Mulder? It's as though I've been with them so long that I've almost forgotten that there are men who really are interested in women.

But Jim Reilly was interested. Jim -- whether consciously or just as an automatic response -- was putting out very definite signals that he was interested and I could feel myself responding to them just as automatically.